Going on
by thesilversun
Summary: A look at Jack and Ianto directly post Countrycide. JackIanto preslash. Could be read as a continuation of After all is said and done, although it is a standalone piece.


"Everybody else went home like I told them to." Jack walks up behind Ianto who is slowly unloading the SUV.

"There's too much to do sir, it's still such a mess." He turns away, wincing slightly, as he lifts one of the crates from the boot and carries it over to stack it with the others he has placed against the wall.

Picking up the next crate, Jack places it with the rest, "it'll be quicker with two."

Ianto makes a noncommittal noise and returns to the SUV.

They unpack the rest of the equipment in silence. With Jack resisting urge to either order Ianto to go home or to put his arms around him and kiss away the haunted expression that he has worn since they left the horror of that isolated village.  
In the end he does neither, unwilling to send him home to an empty house, but unsure of Ianto's reaction if he tries anything else.

With the last of the weapons, tracking devises and miscellaneous electronic equipment stowed away Jack sits down.

He's tired and he doesn't even need to sleep, not anymore, not for so very many years now. He watches the young Welshman for a moment and wonders where he still finds the energy to be concerned over the state of his hiking boots. Boots that Jack suspects Ianto bought especially for what was, in all probability, his first field mission. Concerned enough, Jack notices, to go and fetch a shoe cleaning kit.

Jack shakes his head. He hadn't even known that they kept one at the Hub, but considering Ianto's tendency to clean and tidy everything it wasn't that much of a surprise. Right now though Jack doesn't care about the state of his own clothes, footwear or anything much else. He just wants to be left alone, so he can try to forget the horror of the last couple of days and try to forget just how close he'd come to losing everybody.

He doesn't allow himself to drink very often any more. To actually get drunk is rarer still, but tonight that's what he wants to do. To be able to sink into an alcoholic haze where he can forget everything, to drink until he can't even remember his own name or why he started drink.

Standing up, he is about to leave when he hears Ianto speak, although he suspects it isn't particularly directed at him.

"It won't come off." The voice is small and choked, "the blood won't come off." Ianto throws the boot at the wall, where it hits with a dull thud.  
"There were shoes there. So many shoes, so many people, all dead." His breath hitches repeatedly as he fights for some level of control, before wrapping his arms around himself and hunching forward. "And blood, there was so much blood. I never though I would see that again, all that death, all that…" His voice fading to a tear-filled whisper before trailing off altogether.

Walking over to him, Jack is more than a little disgusted at himself for even thinking of going to drown his own sorrows while one of his team is still here, still in need, still suffering.

"Come with me." Jack holds out a hand, and after a moment Ianto cautiously takes it.

Helping Ianto to his feet, Jack considers what to do. He knows that he should take him home, but being left alone is almost certainly not what he needs right now, so he settles with, "you look like you could do with a drink."

Ianto follows Jack slowly and silently up to his office, sitting down with a slight groan on one of the chairs. Jack picks up two glasses and a bottle from the desk and pours them both a generous amount of whiskey.

Handing a glass to him, Jack moves his seat closer to Ianto before sitting down.

Ianto stares into his glass for a moment before drinking most of it in a single gulp, gasping slightly at the burn of the alcohol. Jack can see Ianto's hands are trembling as he puts the glass down on the table.

"How do you do it?" Ianto's voice is soft and sad when he eventually speaks. "How do you go on after all the death, all the horror?"

Looking at the pale bruised face before him, Jack once more fights down the urge to close the gap between them, to put his arms around the exhausted, unhappy man in front of him, to hold him, to chase away the haunted look in his eyes. Instead he takes a swallow of his drink, letting the burn focus his thoughts before he speaks.

"You have to live for all those that didn't, to try to stop it from ever happening again, because you need believe… have to believe that you make a difference." He says eventually, "because the alternative is unthinkable." Closing his eyes, Jack sighs. He's said more than he meant to, revealed more of his own insecurities than he ever intended.

They sit for a time, lost in their own thoughts, before Ianto speaks, "what is the alternative then?"

"Not to care." Jacks voice is tired, resigned, and for a moment there is silence.

"When did you stop caring?" The tone is almost casual, conversational, but with a trace of bitterness barely concealed beneath.

Jack looks at him with a pained expression, searching for a clue in his face as to where this is going, "do you think I don't care?"

"I know that you don't." Ianto's voice is still neutral.

It is an enforced calm that Jack knows only too well.

"I can see it in how you treat everyone around you. We're all disposable to you, aren't we?" Standing, Ianto finishes the last of his drink before placing the glass down on the desk., "I should go." He doesn't meet Jacks gaze.

"Maybe you should." Jack can feel his own mood darkening still further, thoughts turning in on themselves. Wondering when he stopped being Captain Jack, adventurer, lover of life. When he stopped living for the next thrill, the feel of another warm body next to, in, on or around his own. Wondering when he became somebody who couldn't even empathise with the need to save someone you loved. Was Ianto right? Was he just one of the monsters now?

"Ianto…" He gets up to go after him.

"What is it, sir?" His expression says please let it go, let me go. But Jack isn't in the mood to let it lie, not now. He has to know.

"What can I do…?" He searches for the right words, "what can I do to show you that I still care?" He doesn't mean for it to sound so needy, but there is no other way he can think of saying it.

Ianto shakes his head, "you can't, not now." It's quiet, almost despairing.

"I'm sorry you feel…" Whatever else Jack is going to say dies in his mouth as he sees the anger in Ianto's eyes as he cuts in, his voice bitter.

"You don't know what I feel. I don't even know what I feel, how I feel." He slams his fist down on the desk making the glasses rattle. "I've tried to hate you. You killed the only person who ever gave a damn about me, but I cannot, and so now all I can do is hate myself." His voice is louder now, with an edge of something close to hysteria in it, his accent more pronounced in his anger. "I ask myself everyday how could I fall for my lover's murderer. How can I feel what I feel? Just what kind of sick, twisted freak am I?" Tears are flowing now.

Moving round in front of Jack, Ianto pushes him back hard against the computer console both hands against his chest.

"Some days I just want to die Jack. Do you know how that feels? Do you know what it's like to go to sleep, hoping, praying that you never wake up again? Or what it's like wake in tears because there is nobody left who cares if you live or die?" He ends with a choked off sob as he drops to his knees trembling, the grief too overwhelming, exhaustion finally winning over anger.

Sliding down the console and into the narrow space between it and Ianto, Jack wraps his arms around him, pulling him even closer to rest against his chest. He can feel his own heart racing. There is, despite the fact that nothing now can really physically hurt him, a very real thrill of fear in seeing Ianto angry, passionate like this, it makes him feel alive.

Closing his eyes, he holds Ianto a little tighter, as much out of his own need for reassurance that things can maybe be made all right again, as to still the sobs that shake the man in his arms.

It could be minutes or even hours later when Jack shifts uncomfortably against the console, his back starting to ache from the cramped position he's sitting in.

Still held tightly in his arms, Ianto stirs slightly and sighs before settling deeper into Jack's embrace, head resting on his shoulder, body curled against his.

His eyes are closed and his breathing slow and steady, although tears are still wet on his cheeks. Asleep. Jack studies his face, amazed at how young he looks, he seems too young to have suffered so much, too young to have been through what he has.

Unshed tears still cling to Ianto's eyelashes. Jack closes his eyes, tears of his own threatening now in the knowledge that Ianto has cried himself to sleep in his arms. It speaks to him of trust that he can't believe he deserves. The realisation of it makes something tighten in Jack's chest, emotions welling up that make him want to kiss away the tears, to tell Ianto he'll do whatever it takes, promise him just about anything if it means that things can alright again.

He doesn't want to wake him, doesn't want this moment to be over, but they can't sleep here like this. Not unless they want to spend the next couple of days stiff and aching.

"Ianto." There is a muffled reply that may not have even been words, as he buries his face against Jack's neck.

"Ianto. Come on, its time for bed." He shakes him gently. Ianto wakes with a start and stares at Jack, their faces only a few inches apart, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Hey, it's alright. You're safe." Jack says, concerned. He hadn't meant to scare him.

A look of weary recognition passes across Ianto's face and he closes his eyes again.

"I'm so tired, Jack. I'm so tired of …" He sighs, and Jack knows what he means.

Getting up slowly, Jack supports most of Ianto's weight as they stand. He can feel him trembling, exhausted almost to the point where he needs Jack to keep him on his feet.

"Stay here tonight." Jack cannot stand the idea of taking Ianto back to his flat, of leaving him there alone.

Ianto nods, not questioning where he is to sleep, and Jack wonders, not for the first time, if Ianto knows he lives here.

Jack climbs down through the hatch first. Ianto follows slowly, slipping on the last couple of rungs, but doesn't fall as Jack's arms are round him in a heartbeat, supporting him, guiding him over to the narrow bed.

Ianto's movements are stiff as he unbuttons his shirt, and Jack sees the barely disguised expression of pain as he bends to remove his socks.

Jack knows from Tosh that he took a beating allowing her to escape, even if the escape was only temporary. He knows from Owen that there are bruises. Only bruises, Owen had said dismissively, when he had asked him if Ianto needed to go to the hospital when he had dropped Gwen off there.

Sometimes, Jack has to wonder why a person with such a lack of empathy or compassion ever became a doctor. But he had seen how Owen had looked at Gwen – there was something there, he could only hope that it wouldn't become something that would pull the team further apart than they already were.

Picking up a bottle of water and a packet of aspirin from the table, Jack sits on the bed and hands them to Ianto who accepts them with a small tired smile, "I'll be alright, Sir."

And up goes the mask, thinks Jack sadly, giving Ianto's shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping that he hasn't chosen somewhere with a bruise.

"You should try to sleep." Jack stands up and heads for the door.

"What about you? Where will you sleep?" There is, as far as Jack can tell, genuine concern in his voice despite the tiredness, despite his earlier anger.

"I can go without when it's for a good cause." Jack tries to smile, make it a joke, but it's hard.

"You could sleep with me." It's said fast, and for a moment Jack looks at Ianto wide-eyed, not believing what he is hearing.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Not tonight. Not…"

"Just sleep." Ianto's gaze is steady, but his lip trembles slightly as he speaks. "Please. I don't want to be alone."

With a barely perceptible nod, understanding dawning, Jack sits back down on the bed, placing an arm around Ianto's shoulders. He is relieved that the younger man didn't mean anything more physical. It's not that he doesn't want that with Ianto, he does, he has done from the first moment he saw him, smiling and holding out a clipboard out for him to sign for the equipment he had brought down from London.

He wants to know if he looks as good out of a suit as in one, wants to know how Ianto's skin will feel against his own, how Ianto will taste as he kisses him. Jack pushes more the graphic thoughts from his mind. They have a time and a place and tonight is most definitely not it.

Tonight he will hold him, keep him safe, and take comfort in the knowledge that Ianto doesn't hate him, that Ianto wants him as well, and that one day he will be ready.

Jack knows how to wait, he knows he's got the time and for once immortality seems almost like a blessing. Jack smiles at the thought, and knows it's either that or cry.

"Lie down. " He moves to lay behind Ianto. "I've got you."

Ianto lies down with a soft sound that could have been a yawn or a sigh of relief, head and neck resting on Jacks arm.

Spooned now against Ianto's back, Jack pulls a blanket up over them both.

Almost immediately Ianto is asleep. Jack is not surprised. He knows how exhausting the last couple of days have been, emotionally and physically. But it's not just the last couple of days, not really, it's not even just the last couple of months, but the best part of a year, ever since Canary Wharf, he reminds himself and wonders how Ianto has survived it all. How he has managed to come out the other side still able to think of love, the future and show concern for others. Jack lets out a slow breath. It is on days like this that Jack thinks that Ianto Jones is probably one of the most amazing men he has ever met.

Jack doesn't want to drink away the horrors he has seen now, doesn't want to fall into that bleak oblivion. There is a better way to remind himself that it is all over, for now at least, a way that offers hope for the future.

It has been a long time since Jack has held somebody while they slept, too long since anybody trusted him to keep them safe like this.

The bed is too small for two people really, but with Ianto's back pressed against his chest, head resting on his arm, fingers laced with his own, Jack can think of no other place he'd rather be. The circumstances could be better, he knows, but this moment, if you separate it from everything else, if you could take it out of time, is perfect.


End file.
